How To Train Train Your Mech
by DouglassWolf
Summary: Humanity is in it's most deparate hour, and only a group of fresh recruits can save it. full summary inside.
1. The Raid

**Welcome to the first chapter of How To Train Your Dragon: MechPilots. I hope you enjoy the ride. **

**The year is 2275, and Humanity is on it's last legs. An Alien race known only as the Skinnies has conquered much of the planet, but a few locations still hold strong. One such location is camp Berk, located in the Sonoran Desert in Arizona. It is here that a new technology is about to make it's debut, the Dragons.**

_Transmission initiated Jan. 23, 2075_

_Hostile contact in region NA_

_Requesting immediate mobilization and activation of project VIKING_

_Request pending_

_RE:Request granted_

**Sonoran Desert, Arizona USA**

**May 3, 2275**

**Camp Berk Training Facility**

**Private Log of Private Jason Haddock**

**Callsign: Hiccup**

**Certified for vehicle mechanics, weapons repair and refit, Sniper Rifle Maintenance and Operation**

_This is camp Berk. It's just a few clicks north of the Mexican border, and just a few degrees shy of spontaneous combustion. The plants that grow here are tough, tasteless, and generally covered in needles. The people who live and train here, not much better. While I suppose that previous wars have been fought against other people, or maybe nature itself, this war is fought against..._

"Skinny Raid!" Private Jason Haddock threw his log recorder down on his bed seizing the AXE 170 submachine gun he had been issued. The man who had issued the cry, Major Craig Belch, call sign Gobber, raced past on his way to the armory.

"Hiccup, report to the armory on the double!"

"Yes sir!" As he raced after Gobber he caught sight of the training squad he usually bunked with. The squad had been on fire duty since arrival and were currently occupied with putting out any fires that were started. Hiccup gave them only a passing glance before ducking into the heavily armored bunker that served as the armory.

The Raid lasted an hour before things got hot in the armory. Jason had finally had enough. Grabbing a rocket launcher and a pack of four missiles, he slipped out the back door to a good firing position and sighted in on one of the approaching aircraft. As he pulled the trigger the rocket flared to life and went on it's merry way. The aircraft rolled to evade the missile and homed in on the source. As the crafts guns began firing an explosion rocked its frame. Jason glanced to his side before cringing at the glare the general sent his way.

"Get inside private, I'll be talking to you after this is over." Jason looked at the ground, ashamed.

"Yes sir." he ducked back into the armory and shut the door.

It was another ten minutes before they got the call of 'raid over' and were allowed to come out of their bunkers. Hiccup went immediately to General James Haddocks tent, which had somehow survived the raid. Before he entered he called out.

"Private Haddock as per orders sir." The generals voice called back out.

"Get in here private." He pushed aside the flap of the tent, ignoring the pointed stares at his back. The general sat at his desk, looking over the post raid report. "Sit down son." Jason opened his mouth, but didn't say anything as the general held up his hand. "Don't say anything yet, not until you hear me out son. I'm disappointed in you right now. You used a weapon you are not certified for, you wasted a rocket, and you put the armory in danger. Those are court martial offenses, son. I can overlook it this one time, just like for anyone else, but not if it happens again." Jason looked at his father.

"I know dad. I got hot under collar, lost my temper, and grabbed the nearest weapon available. I probably shouldn't even be in the army at all."

"Stop that line of thinking soldier. I don't want to hear it. I'm damn proud that you tried, but trying isn't good enough out here. You need to make sure every shot counts." General Haddock looked down at his son before a sigh escaped his lips. "Go fetch your squad and Major Belch. I have something to tell all of you."

"Yes sir." Hiccup stood up and stepped out of the tent, looking around for the familiar faces of the Wolf Pack. He finally found them in their bunks. Major Gobber with them.

"Major, the general want the pack in his tent, now." Gobber looked up before slapping his prosthetic left hand on the table.

"Sergeant Hofferson, gather the squad and report to the generals tent on the double." Sergeant Astrid Hofferson, call sign Valkerie, jumped up from the table.

"All troopers, follow me!" Jason waited for her and the Major to pass him before taking his place in line. Ahead of his was Corporal Sven 'Snotlout' Jorgenson, Private's Riley 'Ruffnut' and Brad 'Tuffnut' Thorston, and Private Jack 'Fishlegs' Ingerman. As he fell in behind Jack, he noticed that the large man smelled suspiciously like fish, again. Rolling his eyes he allowed a little space to grow between them. The man's love of food was bad enough but when he had fish he tended to develop an odor. The group jogged through the camp until they arrived at General Haddocks tent. Major Gobber stopped the squad just outside and hollered in.

"Sir, the Wolf Pack to see you, as requestes."

"Just get in here Gobber, and bring the kids." Gobber jerked his head to signal the pack to follow him in as he entered the tent, his prosthetic right leg clanking against the floor plates.

"So what's bugging you Stoic?" the General raised an eyebrow at his old squad mate.

"What I have to say concerns you all. I'm assigning your squad to Dragon training." Gobber nodded for a moment before speaking up.

"So who'll be where?" The general handed him a sheet of paper before answering.

"These are my recommendations for each of them. And before you object to anything, I've thought this through carefully." It was Gobbers turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I wasn't going to question your selections. They make damn good sense." Jason remained quiet, but sergeant Hofferson didn't.

"Permission to speak?" Stoic looked at her, studying her carefully.

"Shoot."

"Sir, as much as I appreciate the generals confidence in my men and myself, I fear that there are select members that are not suited for this duty." Stoic ran a hand over his beard.

"I understand your concerns, and have considered them myself. But the training is not for those who are ideal for the job. It takes those who are insufficient and makes them ideal."

"Understood sir." Astrid obviously didn't like the fact that she had been reprimanded in the way she had been, but made no more comments. Gobber motioned for the group to follow him as he walked toward the entrance of the tent.

"Major." Gobber looked back at the general.

"Yes sir?"

"I'm leading a platoon out to hit the skinny's nearest encampment. Try to have these kids ready before I get back." Gobber nodded.

"Yes sir, and good luck on the raid." Stoic returned the nod, and sat down as the Wolf Pack left the tent.

**Okay, so let me know what you think.**


	2. Dragon Training

**Okay, just a quick update to this chapter. A little research brought up an issue with the speeds of the various craft so I had to adjust them a little to make this a bit more realistic. All the craft above the Nightmare are supposed to outrun the skinny vessels that have outrun modern fighter jets like the F-15 Raptor, which has an estimated top speed of around 2100 miles an hour. The various craft have had their top speeds adjusted accordingly.**

**Sonoran Desert, Arizona USA**

**May 8, 2275**

**Camp Berk Training Facility**

**Private log of Sergeant Astrid Hofferson**

_I suppose I should be grateful that I'm getting the chance that I am, but I can't help but worry that the squad idiot, private Haddock, is going to end up destroying the camp. I expect him to do just that. The man is dangerous to anyone around him without a weapon, if he has one who knows what havoc he could reign. He's a loose cannon that shouldn't even be in the army._

"Welcome to Dragon training lads and lasses. We'll be starting out with the basics and working our way up. There will be lectures on the various machines you will be driving so you'll have to pay close attention." The squad stood lined up in the training facilities arena. Sergeant Hofferson glared at the only member in her squad who was regularly absent, wondering why he had bothered to show up. Major Gobber gave her a glare that told her to pay attention and stop glaring at her squad mate. "Today we'll be starting with the VIKING suit. A mobile weapons platform, or MWP for short. The VIKING suit is simple to operate. Simply wear it. You can carry up to two tons of weapons and ammunition when wearing it, and reach ground speeds of up to forty miles an hour. Standard weaponry placed on the VIKING consists of two Vulcan chainguns, one Mjolnir Missile launcher, and a Freya class grenade launcher. The armor on this suit ranges from two to six inches, and can stop most shells the skinny's throw at us. Yes Tuffnut?" Brad Thorston scratched his head for a moment.

"Um, not to sound discouraging, but if these suits are so good then why haven't we already destroyed every skinny out there?" Major Belch grinned.

"An excellent question! Shows that you're thinking. The truth is that the skinny's have special shells that they lob at these babies. And much of our arsenal can't do more than delay them. That's why we have the Dragon's. And with that we get on to the big stuff. Starting with this little guy." Gobber held up a small droid that appeared similar to a small bird.

"This is the Tactical Elevation Remote Recon and Observation Robot, or TERROR for short. This little fella is our eye in the sky, providing intelligence where we might otherwise be unable to get it. It has a top speed of around fifteen hundred miles per hour, and has no weapons or armor." Astrid looked like she was about to say something, but decided against it. Gobber stepped over to a large aircraft that was thick in the body, but narrowed toward the nose of the craft, splitting into two separate cockpits.

"This is the Z thirty four Heavy bomber, or Zippleback. Thorstons, you'd best pay close attention here, as this is what the two of you are going to be flying." The Thorston twins jaws dropped at exactly the same time, making Hiccup wonder if the two shared brainwaves. Brad was the first to recover.

"You mean we get to fly that thing? Woohoo!"

"Yes Tuffnut, you and your sister get to fly this thing. But you'll have to be careful. After all you'll be trying to fly thirty two hundred pounds of machine here, not to mention up to six tons of explosives inside." Both of the twins stopped celebrating as the weight of their situation struck them. "But don't fret too much. It's going to be hard for all that ordinance to be hit since it's protected by eight inches of armor plate, though it means a top speed of only seventeen hundred MPH. And your air-to-surface and air-to-air defenses aren't that shabby either. Two ball turret Vulcan chainguns, one under each cockpit, four Mjolnir missile launchers, and six Air-to-Surface Missile launchers give you a good chance of getting back home alive. And that's not including the various bombs you'll be carrying." The twins could only stare at the craft they would get to call their own after the training finished. Gobber didn't even blink before launching into the next vehicle.

"Snotlout, this ones yours. The N-1 Firefighter, otherwise known as the Nightmare. This fellow weighs just under nineteen hundred pounds, and can lift up to twice it's weight when it has to. A top speed of four thousand makes this lunker fast enough to chase down most skinny vessels, and the two Vulcans, two Mjolnirs, and it's flamethrower guarantee that any ship you can catch, you can shoot down. It's biggest weak point, only three inches of armor plate." Snotlout, who had been grinning like a fool up to then, paled at the thought of how little armor he really had. Major Belch continued on to the next craft.

"Fishlegs, you get the G twenty eight main battle tank, or the Gronckle MBT. You won't be flying as fast in this thing as the others, as it's more of a hovertank than a fighter. But you have the best protection, and the heaviest weapons. This thing weighs close to two tons and can use it's jets to lift up to eight. You'll have a top ground speed of about eighty miles an hour in the tank, but your air speed is limited to around a thirteen hundred. You'll have sixteen inches of armor, and you're armed with two remote Vulcans, six Mjolnir missile launchers, six Freya class grenade launchers, two sixteen inch mortars, and one main twelve inch cannon." Fishlegs was practically jumping in anticipation of his charge. Gobber gave him a look that told him to tone it down or else, before turning to Astrid.

"Hofferson, you'll be flying the N twelve Rapid Response Fighter, or the Nadder. Don't let the twelve hundred pound frame deceive you, she has to be light, or she won't be fast enough. You've got a top speed of nearly forty five hundred miles per hour at your disposal, and the maneuverability to go with it. You're only carrying six inches of armor so use your agility to avoid the skinny's fire. You're carrying quite a bit of firepower as well, two Berserker Machine guns and two Sliepner missile launchers will help get the job done." Astrid simply nodded, though she was admiring the crafts lines. Gobber turned to Hiccup, a glint in his eye.

"Jason, you get the delicate job. You'll be flying the A seven interceptor, otherwise known as the Night Fury." Astrid turned and stared before speakingup.

"Major, I must protest, Private Haddock is not qualified to even think about flying that sensitive of a craft." Major Belch looked at her.

"Looks like someone has been doing their homework. And I must disagree with your assessment of the privates skills. He's ideal for the job. Jason, the Night Fury is the best craft for someone like you. Fast reflexes, sharp eye, flexible way of thinking, It'll come in handy that you're aggressive too. You'll be flying nine hundred pounds of craft, along with up to six thousand pound of ordinance, to speeds of up to six thousand MPH. You'll sport six inches of armor, but that's not your asset, nor is taking hits the point of the A seven. The craft is the most maneuverable of all of them, as well as being the fastest. It sports two Wolfshirt class machine guns, two Nightraid class missile launchers, and a Fenrir cannon. All of these are silent, and powerful. You're the squads assassin. Its silent striker. You'll be delivering the precision blows. I know you can do it." Hiccup straightened up.

"I'll do my best sir." Gobber grinned widely at him before slapping him on the shoulder.

"Good lad, alright, all of you to your respective simulators." Hiccup gave the pitch black, sleek craft that was to be his one last look before heading to the simulator room.

**Okay, you can resume reading for enjoyment. I am going to start putting the diagnostics for each craft at the end of the chapters. If you think this is an unwanted embellishment then please say so in a review.**


	3. Simulations and Showers

**Alright, finally got this chapter up. Now I have to start on the next one. Anyway, the time is approaching when the new pilots enter their mechs for the first time, the question is, will they survive it?**

"Hostile's at ten o'clock high!"

"Ground target approaching, five minutes!"

"Gronkle and Zipple keep running, Nightmare, you're with me. Take em' out!"

"What about..."

"Shut up, he's useless to us." Sergeant Astrid barked orders into the microphone on her headset. She watched as the Skinny ships came around and fell in behind them. "On my mark, split S, come in behind them, then burn them." Her voice was steady as she waited for the right moment. "NOW!" she pulled her craft to the side, executing a perfect split S maneuver. Over the link she heard the Thorston twins begin one of their infamous arguments.

"Zipple, shut up and do your job." She ordered, but slightly too late.

"We're hit! We're going down!" A quick look to her side revealed the Zippleback going down, flames consuming the fuselage and cockpits as it hit the ground. A grim look crossed her face as she pulled her N-1 around behind a skinny, and pulled the trigger to her vulcans. A small thrill of satisfaction coursed through her as she watched the Skinny ship go down in a ball of fire. But her small private celebration was cut short.

"Hey sergeant, I was thinking that maybe you and I could hang out, you know, around the gym. I mean you look like the kind of girl who works out." She nearly exploded as Snotlout came across the air.

"Corporal, focus on your flying!" She ordered as she gunned down another skinny craft.

"Hey no problem, I've got these guys out.." his com went silent as his craft exploded under a rain of fire from a skinny ship. Astrid looked around, trying to find what was left of her squad.

"I'm hit, I'm hit! I'm going down!" Ingermans cries were silenced by the ball of fire that had been his Gronkle. Astrid looked around, almost panicking as she saw a skinny ship heading strait for her, guns blazing. The fireball she expected to consume her ship never came as the skinny craft was transformed into a molten hunk of scrap metal.

"You look like you could use a hand sergeant." she groaned as Hiccup's voice came over the line.

"Just shut up and kill those guys."

"Roger, will co." Astrid shook her head as skinny ships began exploding all around her. When the final craft had been destroyed a voice blared through the headset.

"All right ladies and gents, simulation over. Get out of those kiddy toys and report to debriefing." Astrid sighed as her screen went black and the cockpit opened up. Standing up in the seat she took a look at the other simulators nearby. The Thorstons were engaged in a brutal fist fight just outside of their unit. Corporal Jorgenson was trying to act like he hadn't lost to a simulated opponent, and Jack Ingerman was standing in his cockpit, jumping up and down.

"I'm okay!" he called, just before he tripped and fell from the side of his craft onto the ground. Planting face first into the hard tile. "Less okay!" Astrid groaned before looking over at the last simulator. The visor opened up revealing her last squad member. He didn't stand, didn't look up, but instead threw his flight gloves against the console. Astrid raised an eyebrow as he all but slammed the simulation helmet onto its hook just outside the simulator. As she stepped down from hers, she heard him swearing under his breathe as he passed her.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit. Stupid idiot, fucking.." his rant passed beyond her hearing as he stalked through the door of the simulator room on his way to the debriefing room. She turned to the rest of the squad. Apparently, Jason's cursing had been louder than she had thought. Even the Thorston twins were staring at the door, frozen in the position they had been in when he'd passed them. Astrid had to hold back a laugh. Riley's thumb was hooked in her brothers mouth and had pulled it back into a deformed shape. Brad's hand had fallen on his sisters chest, probably by accident, and now made it look like he was groping his sister. Thankfully for him he realized where his hand was and removed it post haste. Astrid shook her head at Brad's antics as he tried to rub the feeling from his hand.

"Alright squad, you heard the man. Report to debriefing on the double."

Jason Haddock was not happy with himself. This was the third time he had failed to arrive in time to protect his squad mates and he was becoming fed up with it. Despite the fact that he knew it was only a simulation he still swore his blue streak red. As he passed soldiers in the hall his language made the men and women go bright red. When he finally got to the debriefing room he opened the door and stepped in. Seeing Major Gobber at the blackboard, he gave him a look that told the man not to try comforting him. Belch decided that it was best to let the private think through the problem on his own and avoid the potential barrage of swearing that would have made a sailor turn red. Craig Belch chuckled as he recalled the one time a sailor had tried to out swear Jason after a lousy day. The sailor had gone back to his quarters red faced and humiliated. It wasn't that Jason was simply better at cursing, but rather he came up with new curses, combined them with traditional ones, threw in multiple foreign curse words, and mixed them all up into a combination of swearing so vile, it made the most hardened men go red at the ears.

"Man, talk about bad." Gobber looked at the door as Corporal Jorgenson came in. Sven was talking to Jack Ingerman, who walked in right behind him, followed by the rest of the squad. As the group sat down Brad Thorston made the foolish decision to open his mouth.

"Dude, I don't see why we don't just place Haddock in the field when he's had a bad day. His swearing is enough to drop any skinny at three hundred yards." His comment was promptly followed by a rap on the skull.

"Shut up Thorston, and listen to the debriefing." Astrid took her seat, as far from the angry Haddock teen as possible. She had no desire to be stunned by the mans language. She looked up as Major Belch began speaking.

"Alright, so what went wrong this time? Anyone?" Jason surprised everyone as he stood.

"The privates Thorston got into a fight in the cockpit, Corporal Jorgenson was attempting to flirt with the sergeant and allowed his focus to drift. The resulting gap in the defensive screen allowed the Skinny's to shoot down private Ingerman, and I was too slow in arriving." He sat down and turned his attention to a technical readout on the A-7's systems, searching for a way to improve the craft. The Major nodded as he wrote down the problems.

"Absolutely correct. Thorstons, fighting in the cockpit is a good way to get both you and your squad mates killed, and fail the mission. Jorgenson, I understand that your hormones are raging around right now, but keep a lid on it. Ingerman, make better use of the Gronckle's maneuverability. You should have been able to evade your enemy's fire until Jason got there. Jason, you couldn't have made it there any sooner so don't blame yourself. Good. All in all, a poor demonstration. You'll be going back into the simulators in a week for your final simulation. I expect you to use that time to brush up on your teamwork, self control, and your piloting. Good luck."

Jason stepped into the simulator for the eighth time that day. Astrid watched as he ran through the procedures and preformed his mission. He had been doing this all week, running the simulations and reviewing the tapes. She could not believe how dedicated he was to this. Not only had he become one of the best pilots they had, but everything about him was changing. He had improved his scores at the gun range, even going so far as to surpass her record, and been breaking his own records in the simulators every time he got in.

"Private Haddock, go hit the showers!" she ordered. He glanced at her but didn't object as he exited the cockpit and left the room. Her irritation didn't seem to faze him, and he simply seemed to ignore half of the things she said to him. Admittedly what he ignored was all simply telling him how inadequate he was, but it still irritated her. She stepped out of the simulator room and turned toward the shower rooms. As she entered the squad shower room she looked over at where Jason was pulling off his shirt, revealing a mess of scars across his back, many of them wrapping around to his chest. Astrid didn't have to see his front to know what she would see, her memories of what was there were still vivid. Scars would cross over his chest and stomach, crossing hard muscle and pale skin. She didn't know when he'd gained most of them, but the few she did know of were from Skinny raids. Stripping down, she stood under the showerhead, pulling the chain that sent the hot water cascading down her body. Across the room she could see Jason's naked figure underneath his own showerhead. The steam rapidly enveloping him was evidence of how hot the water was. She wondered how he could stand the scalding water over his entire body, but dismissed it as she turned back to her own shower, resuming her usual cleaning rituals, and pushing all thoughts of Private Haddock from her mind.

Jason stood still and let the scalding water run over his skin. A small sigh escaped him as he leaned his arms against the wall, ignoring the fact that his sergeant was standing naked only a few paces behind him. He finally turned off the water over his head, and stepped over to his clothes, pulling them on with slow deliberate movements. As he stepped out of the shower, he failed to notice a hand reaching out to him. When it landed on his shoulder he spun, trapping the hand and bringing a knife up to a pale throat. Astrid gasped at the cold steel against her skin, and Jason's eyes widened as he pulled the knife away. His eyes fell as he began to turn away, but as they landed on her chest a blush threatened to overwhelm his features. Turning away he refused to turn around. He would have walked away, but Astrid's hand landed on his shoulder again.

"Before you go, I just want to let you know that I really admire what you've been doing lately. I don't think I could do what you've had to." Jason looked back at her, careful to keep his eyes on her face.

"You mean that?" she nodded as he looked at her. Slowly, his eyes fell to the ground and he turned away. "Thanks sarge. It means a lot."

**Okay, things starting to get a little steamy in the showers, I mean that both literally and figuratively. We see that Hiccup, aka 'Jason', is rapidly improving his scores and proving to be an ace pilot with a huge self-blaming issue, not to mention a hair trigger. Will the squad hold together? Afraid you'll have to wait to find out.**


	4. Graduation

**Alright, I am back from the dead. sorry this one took so long. I hope you'll forgive me for that. Enjoy!**

"Alright troopers, lets get this underway. Today we'll be talking about the enemies you'll be flying against." Major Belch said, letting out one of his namesakes as a token of his breakfast. A press of a button brought up a craft that was long and thin, with what looked like doors along the side. "This is the Shrike. It's basically a light transport. It's fairly fast, and it's head-on profile makes it a hard target. But if you get above or below it, it has a much larger profile, and become a relatively easy kill." Gobber continued talking about the types of enemy craft as Hiccup sketched on a spare set of A-7 blueprints. He had already studied up on the types of enemy craft, and was well acquainted with all of them. The only real concern among them that he had was with the Green Death, their capital ships. A few of those could easily ruin his day. His attention was caught as Gobber opened up a question. "So can anyone tell me what the danger of the Thunderdrum is?" Corporal Ingerman called out.

"Sir, the danger of the Thunderdrum is it's sonic cannon."

"Exactly! If ya get in front of it, brace yourself because your heads gonna blow. Now, the Timberjack uses it's wings as weapons, be extra careful about this one, you never know when it's going to go kamikaze on you. Now, continuing on." Hiccup tuned the Majors voice out again as he went back to the blueprints. He had already found a method to increase the number of shots for the Fenrir cannon, and was working on the Wolfshirt machine guns. His musing was interrupted by a small hand slapping down on his desk.

"Not paying attention Haddock?" Jason looked up to see sergeant Hofferson standing over him.

"I've already studied up on the enemy craft and the only real concern I have are their capital ships, ma'am." Astrid narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Large bags rested under his eyes indicating a lack of sleep.

"Report to your bunk Haddock, get some sleep. I don't want you making a mistake due to exhaustion." Jason looked up at her as her voice took on a much softer tone. A look of concern had taken over her features, and her eyes had lost a bit of their steel. He nodded as he folded up the blueprints and stood up. Turning he walked through the doors and made his way down the hall to the bunks.

/

Major Craig Belch stood next to the command tent as he watched the army return from their assault. As General Haddock stepped out of his VIKING, Craig signaled for the mechanics to take the suit to the machine shed.

"I trust you at least put a dent in their defenses?" James brushed past him.

"Not even close. I hope you had better success, Gobber." the Major finger his mustache.

"You can stop worrying Stoic. Your parenting troubles are over." Stoic looked at him.

"What do you mean? He's not dead is he?" Craig rolled his eyes.

"The kid's an ace Stoic. He's already the best damn pilot I've ever seen. And he's acquired the rating to use most of the weapons in the arsenal, he just needs the final approval." Stoic looked at the ground. His thoughts were racing through his head at a pace that made him dizzy.

"Set up the final tests, we did manage to find out when their next raid is going to be. We have three days to graduate the kids before their tested in actual combat." Craig nodded.

"Yes, sir. Right away sir." he said as he turned and jogged off to get everything set up.

/

The test proceeded rapidly, each pilot acing their craft, not doing so well on those craft and weapons that they hadn't tried to qualify for. The only all-rounders in the group were Sergeant Astrid Hofferson, and Private Jason Haddock. As the group of graduates stood at attention in front of the commanding officers, general Haddock stepped out in front of them.

"Men, I'm proud of you. You've proven yourselves today, some more than others. Two of you must receive a rank equal to your qualifications. Sergeant Hofferson and private Haddock, step forward!" Jason and Astrid stepped forward and snapped back to attention. Stoic pulled two small cases from his pocket.

"Sergeant Astrid Hofferson, you've shown yourself more than capable of leading men into combat. As the leader of a new squadron, it is only appropriate that you possess a rank deserving of your skills. Your promotion to captain has gone through and been approved, congratulations." Astrid straightened even more, if it were possible, as the general pinned the captains insignia onto the shoulder of her uniform. She returned his salute with one of her own as he stepped back and turned to Jason.

"Private Jason Haddock, for years you've been keeping yourself unnoticed, your temper and tendency to be irrational preventing your advancement. Now today you stand here to receive a well deserved and long overdue promotion. It prides me to see you receive your lieutenants stripes." Jason didn't move until Stoic had pinned the lieutenants stripes to his shoulder, and then he gave a stiff salute. Stoic stepped back and took in the whole of the unit, pride evident in his features.

"To all of you, you will be the first line of both offense and defense. The vanguard in attack, and the rearguard in retreat. You are the elite, the favored few that will spell the beginning of the end for the skinny's. I know you will all live up to my expectations. Good luck to all of you." he gave the group a salute, which was eagerly returned. "Dismissed."

/

Jason stood underneath the Night Fury, tinkering with the Fenrir cannon. A set of modified blueprints rested on a table nearby, weighted down by the pistol he usually carried. He was so occupied by what he was doing that he didn't notice the slim figure of now captain Hofferson step through the hangar door. As he continued tinkering, Astrid walked over to the table with the blueprints. As she examined his changes, she could see why Major Belch had let him get away with them during class.

"When did you get here?" Jason's voice made her jump, though the tone was somewhat lighter than usual.

"Just a minute ago." Haddock gave a bit of a nod as he picked up one of the components on the table and turned to focus on installing it on the cannon.

"What is that?" she asked. Jason didn't answer immediately, but made a 'wait a minute' sign with his free hand. Astrid watched as he became completely engrossed in the details of the installation of what looked like a miniature satellite dish with a torpedo on the back.. Finally he stepped back and picked up a small hand towel from the table and wiped his hands on it.

"That is an oxygen scoop. It increases the Fenrir cannon's power." Astrid raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't that overload the cannon?" Jason shrugged.

"Not with the adjustments I've made." she glanced at him as he turned away from her to pick up the blueprints that covered the table.

"You know, you're not exactly what I expected." Haddock didn't even glance up at her.

"So?" he asked. She glanced back at the Night Fury before answering.

"It's not a bad thing. I just keep finding out that there's more to you than meets the eye." Jason shrugged again.

"It's not a good idea to judge a book by its cover." Astrid watched as he walked out of the hangar, the blueprints and several small components grasped lightly in his hand. Glancing back at the A-7, she noticed something odd about the cockpit. It was too long for a single pilot. Climbing up the ladder, she noticed that there were two seats, one behind the other. The rear seat was set higher and had no controls other than observational equipment. The front seat had all of the usual fighter controls. Glancing across the hangar at her Nadder, she recalled the same kind of setup in her cockpit. One seat for the pilot, and one for an observer. This placed the Night Fury in the Scout and Command class of vehicles. As she looked around the cockpit she heard voices approaching.

"So ya want ta take yer bird up for a test flight eh? Well that sounds like a good idea. You can't get a handle on how she'll fly unless you actually fly her. Permission granted. I would suggest that you take your Nadder up too, Astrid." Major Belch said as he and Jason walked up to the Night Fury.

"Yes sir." she said as she climbed down. As she passed Jason, she noted that he had changed in the five minutes that he had been gone. He now wore a full flight suit, complete with the fifty caliber desert eagle at his hip. His flight helmet hung from his fingertips as he approached the ladder leading up to his cockpit. As she made her way to her Nadder, Astrid couldn't help but admire the way he moved. The way he walked portrayed confidence and calm, instead of the anger that he had possessed as a boy. But her musing was interrupted by a loud klaxon and the flashing red lights around the base.

"Red alert! Red alert! All pilots to their craft! All pilots to their craft!" Astrid jumped for her Nadder, barely managing to grab her helmet as she went. Major Belch jumped off the ladder as ground crews rushed the craft.

"Do what you've trained for Haddock! Don't let me down lad!" Jason didn't respond, opting instead to slip the flight helmet over his head and link into his Night Fury's system. As he fired up the engines he heard the voice of the Captain come through the radio.

"Wolf pack, this is Valkerie, all units report." Jason waited as the squad ran through its usual attendance check.

"Snoutlout, ready to ride!"

"Fishlegs, all systems go."

"Tuffnut and Ruffnut, ready to roll."

"Hiccup, I'm ready." as engine throughout the hangar fired up, the squad heard their captains voice again.

"Alright Wolves, let's give em hell!" Jason grinned as he guided the Night Fury out of the hangar and onto the runway.

"Time to show them what we can do." he whispered as he pushed the throttle forward, and the craft thundered down the strip.

**Cliffhangars! we love to hate them. But anyway, the troops have their charges and their orders. how will their first shot at actual combat go? find out in the next chapter. Please Review.**


	5. Attack and Aftermath

**Okay guys, I am so, so, sorry that it's taken me this long to get this chapter up. My inspiration has been haywire, and my schedule has been hell. But I am officially back in business, and the next few chapters will hopefully not take as long.**

**May 18, 2275**

**Location:Camp Berk**

**Status: Code Red**

**Hostile aircraft inbound**

**Request Immediate authorization for takeoff for Battalion 3 Squad 7**

**RE: Request granted**

Jason gunned his throttle as soon as he was lined up on the runway. Glancing down at his radar he could see where the Skinny ships were inbound, nearly twenty clicks away. He grinned as he pulled the control sticks back to bring the nose of his craft up. 'Toothless', as he had begun referring to the craft, took off smoothly, with no roughness or complications. Pulling up to ten thousand feet, he circled as he waited for the rest of the squad to take off. As soon as everyone was in the air, he heard the crackle of the radio.

"This is Valkerie to wolfpack. All units, sound off."

"Snotlout, standing by."

"Ruffnut and Tuffnut, standing by"

"Fishlegs, standing by." Jason keyed his mike.

"Hiccup, standing by."

"All units, let's go show them what we can do." Jason pulled the sticks back and began to climb to his preferred altitude. He watched carefully as the rest of the squad moved towards the intruders. He checked the altimeter momentarily and leveled off, pushing the throttle to the maximum. Taking a quick glance at the radar he keyed his mike.

"Hiccup here, I'm in position." Astrid was silent for a moment, then her voice crackled across the radio.

"Alright, Hiccup, take point and disrupt their formation. Snotlout, you're with me, split up and come in form the sides, catch them in the crossfire. Tuffnut, Ruffnut, Fishlegs, you come in form the front and low, take their bellies out. Go!" Jason pushed his throttle forward, reveling in the feeling of increased speed as he raced ahead of the others. The Skinny ships came into sight rather quickly, almost directly in front of him, and some five hundred feet lower. Putting Toothless into a dive, he primed the weapons to fire. Focusing his aim on the leader of the formation, he pressed the trigger for the Fenrir cannon. A single blue pulse rocketed from the barrel of the cannon, racing towards the leading craft.

The Skinny saw the pulse too late, and his attempt to evade only caused the bolt to hit his engines rather than his cockpit, leaving him screaming in terror as his craft plummeted towards the desert, where his craft exploded. Jason grinned as he shifted his aim towards the second ship to the right, the second in command. A second pulse from the Fenrir blasted through the cockpit, roasting the Skinny inside. With their commanders taken out the rest of the formation crumbled, and was torn apart by the rest of the Wolfpack.

/

Upon landing, Jason grinned down at Major Belch. A hearty thumbs up showed how excited the major was. Turning to watch the rest of the squad land behind him, he felt a cold knot of reality sink in. This had been a scouting party, and likely the main force would not be far behind.

"Son." Jason turned to face his father. "How did those improvements you made work out?" Jason grinned broadly.

"They worked perfectly. The Fenrir cannon can now fire almost indefinitely. And the turning radius has been cut nearly in half. If it were any other craft I would probably say that the G-forces would have torn it apart, but the A-7 is perfect for it." the General returned his sons grin.

"Excellent. How about some of the hidden weapons you added?" Jason's grin fell.

"Didn't try them this time. They'll be cold for the next fight." Stoic nodded.

"Well, you'd best make sure that they aren't going to turn you into a ball of fire up there." Jason shrugged.

"No guarantees dad. Most of this stuff is experimental, and I haven't had the opportunity to test them at altitude." The Haddock senior nodded.

"Well, we'll make sure you get that chance." he said, patting his son on the shoulder. Jason simply grinned and turned to watch as Astrid taxied her Nadder into its position.

/

The local watering hole was a rundown old pub called O'Brisleann's Loft. The building itself had once been a machine shed back before the invasion, and some lunatic with a welding torch had decided that it would make a perfect place to sell inebriating beverages of questionable origin from. The drinks in question had at the time consisted of rotgut liquor and bad beer, and it was not until John O'Brisleann had taken over the place that anything relatively decent was served there or there was any sort of furniture aside from turned over buckets and a sleeping cot.

It was here that Jason found himself not long after his first full combat mission. He had chosen a seat in the back, near the roaring fire that O'Brisleann kept going at all hours of the day. In his hand he was nursing a pint of fine Irish whiskey, home brewed by O'Brisleann himself in copious supply. And as he sat there in the corner, nursing his drink, a shadow fell across his table.

"Mind if I join you?" looking up, Jason's eyes met those of his captain.

"Go ahead Ma'am. No one's trying to stop you." Astrid frowned at the formal way he addressed her, but the grin teasing at the corner of his lips gave away the fact that he was trying to be humorous.

"You have little penchant for humor, Mr. Haddock." Jason chuckled as Astrid sat down in front of him. "What do you plan on doing after this is over? I mean, when the Skinny threat is neutralized?" Jason glanced at her before looking back down at the table. Sitting back he rubbed his fingers across his forehead before taking a sip of his whiskey.

"I don't really know. I've never really thought about it before."

"Ere ye are captain. Yer drink." Old John, as everyone called O'Brisleann, set Astrid's drink down on the table. "An ere's another mug o' the Irish for ye lieutenant, along wit another bottle o' te old home remedy. Figured ye'd hae used up yer supply by now." Jason smiled up at the old Irishman.

"Thanks John, I was almost out. It's been acting up again." Jack nodded as Astrid tried to decipher what the conversation was about.

"Is te weather. Me ol' leg hae been itchin' some'at oyful of late. Rekin we'll be havin a bit o' a desert tunderstarm for te weeks oot." Jason nodded.

"Could be, could be. Could also be a sandstorm." John shook his head.

"Nay, lad. If'n I remembers right, yer left side starts ta achin' when a sanstarm be on its way. Nay it be a tunderhead sure as I be standin ere." Jason nodded.

"Yeah, you're right. Couple days maybe, before it hits." at this point Astrid could contain herself no longer.

"What are you two talking about?" John stared at her for a moment before removing the ever present cigar from between his teeth.

"Ta weather. What di ye think we was talking aboot?" Astrid shook her head.

"Not that, what's this talk about a home remedy, and being able to tell what kind of weather is coming?" Jason and John glanced between each other before Jason let out a low breath.

"John's home remedy is for my head. I've got an old injury that starts acting up every now and then." he pulled some of his hair aside to reveal an old scar, faded almost to white, that ran from his temple back into the hairline, leaving a small furrow of bare skin over his ear. "It usually starts acting up whenever a thunderstorm of some kind starts heading this way. I asked the doc about it once. He said it had something to do with the barometric pressure or some such nonsense." Astrid stared at him for a moment, not noticing that John had waved goodbye and moved on to serve his other customers. Then she shook her head and settled back, slightly annoyed.

"You're sounding like some of those old guys that hang around the bar. You really shouldn't, it's creepy." Jason chuckled for a moment before setting a few bills on the table and standing up.

"If I sound like someone old, then I must have seen too much." he said as he turned away, picking up the home remedy that John had left. "Oh, and just so you know, the test flights with the Night Fury are going to take place tomorrow, around noon. Just in case you want to watch." Astrid wasn't sure how to respond, but it seemed that the lieutenant wasn't waiting for an answer as he walked out of the bar.

**Okay, so the chapters a little shorter than I'd like, but I was grasping at straws for a while so this is what I've got. If you have any questions or comments, then leave them in a review so I can find them. To those of you who have remained faithful fans, thank you so much, and I'll try to not keep you waiting so long again.**


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